Whispers of Memory
#TasteOfMemories
In the quiet hum of a sun-drenched afternoon,
A scent drifts through the air, delicate as a whisper,
Fleeting yet familiar, it beckons from the shadows,
A ghost of something cherished, now lost to time.
Like the soft brush of forgotten dreams,
It wraps around me, teasing the edges of thought,
Sweet and earthy, a harmony of longing,
A fragrance that dances just beyond my grasp.
The faint trace of laughter echoes in the breeze,
Moments tucked away in corners of the heart,
I wander through spaces woven with sunlight,
Yet each breath brings only more questions.
What was it—lilacs in bloom or summer rain?
The warm embrace of baked bread, perhaps,
Or the crisp bite of autumn leaves underfoot,
A melody of memories that slips through my fingers.
I close my eyes, surrender to the unknown,
Let the scent swirl, a time traveler’s gift,
Carrying whispers of stories untold,
Reminders of days I can hardly recall.
In this haze of nostalgia, I find a solace,
A connection to the past, though hazy and dim,
For in the realm of scent, where time is entwined,
The heart remembers what the mind cannot pin.
© All Rights Reserved
In the quiet hum of a sun-drenched afternoon,
A scent drifts through the air, delicate as a whisper,
Fleeting yet familiar, it beckons from the shadows,
A ghost of something cherished, now lost to time.
Like the soft brush of forgotten dreams,
It wraps around me, teasing the edges of thought,
Sweet and earthy, a harmony of longing,
A fragrance that dances just beyond my grasp.
The faint trace of laughter echoes in the breeze,
Moments tucked away in corners of the heart,
I wander through spaces woven with sunlight,
Yet each breath brings only more questions.
What was it—lilacs in bloom or summer rain?
The warm embrace of baked bread, perhaps,
Or the crisp bite of autumn leaves underfoot,
A melody of memories that slips through my fingers.
I close my eyes, surrender to the unknown,
Let the scent swirl, a time traveler’s gift,
Carrying whispers of stories untold,
Reminders of days I can hardly recall.
In this haze of nostalgia, I find a solace,
A connection to the past, though hazy and dim,
For in the realm of scent, where time is entwined,
The heart remembers what the mind cannot pin.
© All Rights Reserved